


Broken Swords Can Still Be Fixed

by HopeHazard



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Other, Parentlock, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeHazard/pseuds/HopeHazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hamish breaks his sword, he goes to Sherlock to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Swords Can Still Be Fixed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for anglophile-rin on tumblr as part of the Johnlock Challenges gift exchange.

“Dad! Dad, Dad, Dad!” Hamish yelled, running down the stairs. John and Sherlock glanced at each other and simultaneously fought back smiles as Hamish came to a stumbling halt in front of them. The five-year-old looked close to tears as his pirate hat drooped in front of his eyes. Sherlock watched in amusement as John picked up their son and put him in his lap.  
“What’s wrong?” 

“M-my sword,” Hamish sniffed. In his hands were two pieces of what was once a flimsy plastic sword John had found at the store yesterday. “It broke.” John kissed his cheek and took the pieces from him. 

“Aw, that’s okay. I bet you Papa can fix it.” He nudged Hamish and winked at him, giving a pointed look to Sherlock, who was pretending to read a newspaper with a concealed smirk. “Don’t tell him I told you,” he whispered to Hamish, “but he’s actually pretty good at fixing things.” Hamish smiled and giggled quietly. “And I bet if you ask him nicely, he might put it back together again.” Hamish nodded and took a second to wipe his eyes and put on a serious face. He crawled out of John’s lap and sat on his knees next to Sherlock, facing him. He pushed his hat back and sat up straight before tugging on Sherlock’s sleeve. 

“Hamish,” Sherlock said, looking at him casually and setting his newspaper down. 

“Papa,” Hamish said in the same tone. John laughed to himself silently, amazed at how similar the two of them were. “Can you please fix my sword?”

Sherlock took the pieces and pretended to examine them carefully for a few minutes. Hamish sat in front of him, chewing on his bottom lip nervously and glancing at John occasionally. Finally, Sherlock smiled slightly and pulled Hamish to his lap, standing up. “I believe I can fix it.” 

Hamish instantly broke out in a grin and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck. “Really?” he asked excitedly. “Good as new?” 

“Better,” Sherlock assured him. John just smiled fondly behind them before following into the kitchen. Sherlock set Hamish down on the counter then went over to the table. He pushed aside his microscope and carefully began mixing various chemicals together. “I’m forming a type of bonding agent,” he explained as he worked. “Quick drying and far stronger than anything you would be able to get at the store. Also clear, so it will look brand new.” Hamish watched Sherlock with rapt attention while John watched Hamish, making sure he didn’t fall off of the counter as he leaned forward to better see Sherlock’s actions. 

Pretty soon, Sherlock was spreading his home-made glue over the sword and pushing the pieces together. He stood up and flourished it a few times, smirking as a smile steadily grew on Hamish’s face. He held his arms out to be picked up and put on the ground, reaching for the sword as soon as he was stable. Sherlock passed it over, adjusting Hamish’s hat as he did so. 

“What did I tell you?” John laughed, watching Hamish stab at the table legs. “I told you he could fix it.” 

Hamish beamed and hugged tightly onto Sherlock’s leg. “Thank you Papa. Will you come and play pirates with me?” Picking Hamish up and walking out of the kitchen, Sherlock nodded. 

“Did I ever tell you about when I was a pirate?” Hamish’s mouth fell open in awe and he shook his head. Sherlock smiled a little and cleared his throat. As he carried Hamish up to his room, he told all about the adventures of Captain Holmes, and the vicious monsters he faced at sea. And when John went up there some time later to check on them, he found the two of them curled up on the small bed, which had been temporarily rearranged to vaguely resemble a ship. The pirate hat was skewed from the detective’s head, the now-whole sword clutched gently in Hamish’s hand.


End file.
